


going on a ride

by theappleppielifestyle



Series: going on a ride [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, M/M, Steve is a bad boy with a heart of gold, The Howling Commandos is a biker gang, Tony is a nerd with glasses, everyone is secretly a BAMF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 22:27:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1527920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theappleppielifestyle/pseuds/theappleppielifestyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You want to take me for a ride on your motorcycle," Tony repeats, slow so he can process it as he’s saying it, "because you think my glasses are cute."</p>
            </blockquote>





	going on a ride

Hearing, “Hey, Stark,” called down the halls isn’t Tony’s idea of an ideal Monday, but he’ll have to make do.

He turns, eyeroll prepared and waiting, slouch at the ready, books held tight in both hands lest they get knocked out of them, but the only thing that happens is Steve Rogers stopping in front of him with his hands in his pockets.

"Uh," Tony says. "Hi?"

"Hi," Steve says, and if Tony hadn’t been going here for the past three years, he’d swear Steve was _nervous_. The pocketed hands come out, rest on his hips for a second before going straight back to the pockets like Steve doesn’t know what the royal hell he’s doing with his hands. “Hi,” he says again, and Tony squints suspiciously. 

"Yeah, we’ve covered that," he says slowly, and Steve ducks his head and hunches his shoulders, and Tony is officially out of his depth. 

Steve Rogers isn’t  _smart_ , per-se, but he sure as hell isn’t dumb, so Tony doesn’t think he’s here to try to bum test answers off of him, but he doesn’t know why Steve would be here otherwise. 

Even with the whole bad-boy image, he’s not the bullying type, Steve Rogers, even if he does beat the crap out of anyone who messes with his friends- the only people Tony has seen him raise his fists to are people who moved for him or his people first.

Or that one kid, Justin Hammer, who insulted Steve’s mother, but Tony assumes that was justified. Even if it wasn’t, Tony would rather watch Justin get his ass handed to him than go to class any day.

"Um," Steve says finally, after Tony has stared expectantly at him for long enough that Steve has started rocking back and forth on his heels. "Uh, I was wondering if, uh."

Tony stares some more as Steve squirms like he’d rather be taunting a crocodile with live bait than be standing here. Was he paid to prank Tony, or is this a bet? Did the hair oil finally soak into Steve’s brain? Is this the work of Bucky fucking Barnes, who has had a weird rivalry thing with Tony since the day they met on the first day of freshman year?

Steve says, “Uh,” again, and yes, it’s definitely a blush, that is most certainly a blush working its way up his cheeks, and Tony has no idea what is going on.

"We’ve also covered that," Tony tells him. "Done the whole ‘uh’ thing. And the ‘um’ thing. Anything else you want to add, Rogers?"

This puts him off, it seems. Or, at least, Steve bites his lip like he regrets everything leading up to this moment and blushes even harder. Tony’s seen the guy whale on some kid who tried to touch Natasha’s ass just before Natasha took over and knocked the kid’s teeth out, but now those hands are fumbling at the hem of his pockets like an eighth grader asking their crush out on a date.

"You’ve seen my motorcycle," Steve blurts finally, and Tony blinks. "I saw you looking at it in the parking lot once or twice."

"Yeah," he says, confused. "It’s a thing of beauty, Rogers. Thank god you take such good care of it, because if you didn’t I’d probably look down at you every time you walk past in the halls. Not that I could. Look down at you, I mean. I’d probably have to get a chair and THEN look down at you, but- yeah." Tony swallows. Fuck. "I’ve seen your motorcycle," he finishes lamely.

"Do you wanna take it for a spin sometime," Steve asks, not a mumble but not much else, fingers picking at his pockets, and okay,  _what_?

"Why." Tony thinks it’s a sensible question, giving that the only time they’ve talked is when Steve asks if Tony’s okay after someone tries to beat him up, and that one time when Tony helped Steve with his algebra homework last year. That, combined with Tony creeping on Steve’s motorbike and occasionally the guy who rides it, doesn’t add up to a friendly invitation to ride his vehicle around.

Steve shrugs jerkily. “I dunno.” Mumble, mumble, mumble. “I- you were looking at it, and I know you like machinery, and I’ve seen you around, you look like you could use a friend?”

He phrases it like a question, still blushing furiously, and Tony- Tony has no idea whether or not he should be insulted. He hangs out with Pepper and Rhodey, sure, but they’re both in college and they don’t do it around campus, so he’s sure it looks like he’s pretty much alone to Steve. Which he is, but whatever.

Then Steve blows his brains by continuing, “And you’re cute,” and Tony makes some sort of noise like _bwah_? 

"I’m," Tony says, and Steve shrugs again and then a third time, all leather jacket and slicked hair and somehow adorable with both of them.

"I like your glasses," Steve says feebly, and Tony wants to laugh and laugh, because, seriously,  _what_? “And you- I thought we could go on a ride. On my bike.”

"You want to take me for a ride on your motorcycle," Tony repeats, slow so he can process it as he’s saying it, "because you think my glasses are cute. And you think I need a friend."

More squirming. “Yes and no,” Steve says.

The bell rings then, and students start to move around them, jostling and shoving, and Tony isn’t alone but he fucking feels like it most of the time, and the only time anyone’s ever told him his glasses are cute is jokingly, and he’s been staring at Steve from a distance ever since freshman year-

"Meet me in the parking lot after school," Tony tells him, and has enough time to see the relieved smile that is too sweet to match Steve’s outfit, before they’re both lost in the crowd.

 

 

 

 

When the bell rings, Steve all but runs to the school parking lot. At least, he walks as fast as he can without it turning into a jog, and for a second when he gets there he thinks he’s been ditched- Tony never intended to show up anyway, he only said he’d meet Steve so Steve would leave him alone, Tony thought he’d make Steve feel like an idiot-

But then Steve spots him, standing beside Steve’s motorbike, running a careless hand over the handlebars. He’s engrossed, bending to check the engine and smiling and muttering stuff under his breath, so he doesn’t notice Steve’s presence until Steve is standing right next to him and saying, “Impressed?”

Tony bolts up, hands going to the straps of his bag and clutching. It makes Steve frown- does Tony get a lot of people coming up behind him and yanking his bag off?

When Tony sees who it is, he relaxes. “I’m not disappointed,” he says, and shrugs. “It could be better, though.”

Steve grins. “Oh?”

"Yeah. I could make some improvements."

Steve takes in the pseudo-casual smile. “You do that sort of stuff, right? Mechanics?”

"I dabble," Tony says, like it amuses him. He slides his hand over a handle like he had been doing before Steve got here, fingers pressing light over the clutch. "I have friends, by the way."

"Glad to hear it," Steve says, cringing internally- his mouth had gotten away from him this morning, he regrets a good half of what he had said and had gone over it all through Bio.

"Rhodey and Pep. They go to Marrian."

"They’re in college?"

"Yeah."

"Cool," Steve says, scuffing his feet and pretending he isn’t. Tony has cool college friends. Steve can be cool. Steve wears leather jackets and rides a  _motorcycle_ , motorcycles are cool. 

_Cool people probably don’t say ‘cool’ all that much_ , Steve’s mind supplies, and Steve tells his mind to kindly shut it.

"It’s just," Steve says, and yep, there goes his filter. "Just, you don’t hang out with people at school. I thought it must be lonely."

Tony hums like it hadn’t crossed his mind before. “Steve Rogers, lead of the Howling Commando biker gang, wastes time thinking Tony Stark must be lonely?”

"Wasn’t wasting time," Steve says, trying to sound every bit of the leader of the Howling Commando biker gang and less like Steve, "I- see you in the halls. And classes. It just popped up in my mind. So."

"So you thought you’d ambush me before classes?"

"I didn’t ambush you."

Tony makes a face. “Kinda did. But hey, better than beating me up, which is what I thought you were gonna do.”

"I wouldn’t beat you up," Steve says, frowning, but Tony’s already backtracking, hands up defensively.

"Yeah, yeah, you only do unto others what they do unto you," Tony says, and cocks his head. "Was it you that slashed Zola’s tires last week?"

Steve snorts. “Bucky did, actually.”

"But you gave the order?"

"I might’ve suggested something to him," Steve allows, and Tony’s smirk widens.

"What’d he do to you?"

"He’s been peeping in the girl’s locker rooms."

"Oh." Tony’s nose wrinkles. "Ew. So what, you don’t just keep your people safe, you guard the school, too?"

"I like to think I do my part," Steve says honestly. "Besides, who doesn’t want to shove Zola up against a locker?"

"You shoved him up against-? What else have you done this month, Rogers?"

"Nothing you can prove," Steve says innocently.

Tony looks at him, considering. His bottom lip tucks between his teeth before pulling free. “All this protecting the student body from a guy in a biker jacket.”

"Hey, don’t diss the jacket," Steve says, puffing out his shoulder so Tony laughs. He is proud of it, though- it’s nice, watching him, Pegs, Natasha, Bucky and Sam walk through the halls with their matching jackets. Gives him a sense of family.

"It is a very nice jacket," Tony says, eyeing the width of Steve’s shoulders long enough that Steve squirms.

"Uh, so," Steve says, and clears his throat. Damn, he feels like he’s five-foot nothing again, complete with sticks for arms. "Motorbike," he says lamely, gesturing at it.

Tony’s mouth twitches, but he doesn’t comment. “Motorbike,” he agrees solemnly, and steps back to let Steve get on. “Hey, should I take off my glasses?”

"Probably," Steve says, swinging one leg over. "We’re gonna be going pretty fast."

"You promise," Tony mumbles, and Steve doesn’t have time to ask what he means because Tony is getting on the motorbike behind him, pressing up against Steve’s back. "Go, noble steed."

"Motorbike’s the steed," Steve tells him. "I’m the driver."

"Onwards, noble driver," Tony says, and startles when Steve hands him his spare helmet. "Oh, I don’t do helmets."

"You’ll do helmets if you want a ride on this bike."

Tony takes the helmet like it’s going to bite him. “The things I do for rides with hot blondes,” he sighs, and Steve’s blush is miraculously hidden by his own helmet.

He clears his throat. “Helmet on?”

"I hate you."

"Taking that as a yes," Steve says, and guns the engine.

 

 

 

 

Tony’s seen them all around before, even talked to them once or twice since he’s started hanging out with Steve, but nodding to them in the halls and sitting with them at lunch are two entirely separate experiences. 

Natasha smirks through the whole thing. For the entire lunch period, she eats her crappy cafeteria food and offers bland comments and smirks in Tony’s direction like she knows how he’s going to die. Occasionally she leans over to Bucky and says something in his ear, and Bucky either laughs or narrows his eyes further at Tony.

Peggy and Sam seem amused by all of this, badly hiding smiles behind their hands.

Every single one of them keep shooting these glances at Steve, who pointedly ignores all of them.

"He’s not getting a jacket," Bucky says at one point, effectively cutting off Sam and Peggy, who had been arguing over whether it’d be possible to have sex in a sink.

Steve’s smile tightens. “Thank you, Bucky. It didn’t sink in the first eight times.”

"He doesn’t like you very much," Sam says in a stage-whisper to Tony, who snorts.

"I don’t know why, I’m such a likeable person."

Sam laughs, and then hides it with a cough when Steve glares.

Putting her lipstick away, Peggy sighs. “Don’t pay him any attention, Stark. Barnes plays overprotective big-brother for Steve, he used to be a skinny little shit and Barnes never really stopped trying to protect him after his growth spurt.”

"STOP FEEDING INFORMATION TO THE ENEMY."

"Buck-"

"I don’t know how to feel about your irrational hatred for me," Tony says lightly, fluttering his eyelids at Bucky, "but I think I can have a lot of fun with it." 

Bucky breaks his fork in half in a way that is probably supposed to be intimidating. Sam slaps him in the back of the head and demands he go get another one, since he had been borrowing Sam’s fork at the time.

Glowering, Bucky gets up and heads for the plastic forks, and Natasha speaks directly to Tony for the first time since freshman year when she had told him to please move so she could beat Justin Hammer’s head into the locker next to him. That had left an impression on Tony, and as she speaks all he can remember is Justin’s howl of pain.

"He’ll get over it," Natasha says, and chews food that Tony is pretty sure they don’t serve here. "Maybe."

"Comforting."

She shrugs. “He still gets like that about us sometimes when he’s drunk. Boy’s protective.”

"I get the feeling it’s a group thing," Tony nods. It’s not easy to miss- the goddamn jackets, for one. Tony has come out of class on numerous occasions to see some of the Howling Commandos, if not all of them, lined up outside the principal’s office in various states of bloody. 

Tony lowers his gaze to his tray as he says, “I’m fine with it, by the way. Not being a Howling Commando. Helmets and me don’t go together, anyway. Glasses and stuff.”

"You could get contacts," Peggy suggests, and almost instantly after the last word is out of her mouth, Steve says, "No, don’t get rid of the glasses," and Tony turns to look at him, lips tugging up.

Steve colours, and Tony is never going to get over that- Captain of the Howling Commandos blushing over little ol’ him. He grins, looser than he thinks he ever has, in this place. 

"Right, you said you like my glasses," Tony says, remembering. 

Across the table, Sam is boggling. “Steve told you that? With his words? From his  _mouth_?”

"Shut up," Steve says, scowling, but Tony talks over him: "Oh yeah, it was one of the first things he ever said to me. Big admirer of my glasses, that Steven Rogers."

Bucky sits down just in time for Sam to start clapping softly towards Steve, and looks between the two of them as he hands Sam a plastic fork. “What happened?”

"Steve likes Tony’s glasses," Natasha answers blandly. 

"He thinks they’re cute," Tony continues, and Sam crows, "He thinks they’re CUTE," and nearly shouts the last word in his laughter. "Rogers, you dog!"

"Shut up," Steve says again, still red around the ears. The blush is fading, but it comes back in full force when Tony links their ankles together under the table.

 

 

 

 

Steve has been praised on his ability to work well under pressure. He’s diffused and started fights in seconds, and one time he knocked a gun out of the hand of a kid who wanted to prove he was tough shit just after he pulled it out.

He’s good in a fight, Steve is. Quick to act. 

Which is why he surprises himself by standing with his mouth hanging open, his gaze hazy as Tony bites down on the guy’s hand that is over his mouth, elbows the guy in the stomach, and then spits the guy’s own blood at him when he spins to face him.

_I should help,_  Steve finds himself thinking, but it’s hard to reach his thoughts through the muddle of his brain. Blinking is harder than it should be.

Besides, it doesn’t look like Tony needs any help- three guys had came up and started whaling on them, all three of them in Zola’s circle. Steve has the first one sprawled unconscious at his feet and the second one had run away, but not after slamming Steve’s head into a brick wall.

Steve’s head is ringing hard as he watches, swaying a bit, as Tony knees Zola’s friend in the stomach so he drops, groaning. 

"You’re bleeding," Steve says, and Tony jerks when Steve grazes a hand over the cut on his eyebrow. 

"You’re worse, Jesus," Tony exclaims, and had to pause to kick Zola’s friend in the shin when he tries to come at him again. "Fuck  _off_ ,” Tony snarls, and the guy hesitates, eyeing Steve, before half-stalking, half-limping away.

Steve thumbs at the rims of Tony’s glasses. “Your glasses are broken.”

"It’s just one of the lenses," Tony says distractedly. "It’s fine, I’ll buy some more- Steve, are you okay?"

"Hit my head," Steve mumbles, the words thick in his mouth. His tongue feels too heavy, and when he raises his hand to touch it, his fingers come away bloody. "Ouch," he says.

Tony blows out a breath. “You’re concussed.”

"M’ not."

"You are," Tony says. "Come on, I’m taking you to the hospital."

The guy at their feet stirs, and they both spare a glance at him before stepping around him. Tony’s arm circles Steve’s shoulder, and Steve leans into it, humming happily.

"Zola’s gonna get hell for this," Steve says into Tony’s hair.

"Right there with you, buddy," Tony says, watching Steve’s eyes track anxiously. "Hey, keep talking, okay?"

"Okay," Steve sighs. "What about?"

"Anything," Tony says, sidestepping a pothole and making sure Steve doesn’t stumble into it. "Tell me how the Howling Commandos formed."

"Started out as a biker gang, as in literal bikes when we were twelve," Steve says, and grins, remembering. "Nat’s was pink. It had tassles. Last time I brought it up, she put blue dye in my shampoo."

Tony laughs. “Sounds like her.”

"Mm. We upgraded to motorcycles in freshman year."

"I remember, you were the envy of the parking lot. Steve, gotta keep your eyes open to walk, remember?"

"Trust you," Steve mumbles into his hair. He rubs his mouth into Tony’s scalp lightly. "Won’t let me walk into a pole."

"Depends how nice you are to me," Tony says, but his voice shakes a little. "Steve?"

"Mm."

"Keep talking, okay? We’re nearly at the hospital, they’ll check you out."

"Mom’s a nurse. She’ll be mad at me. She says I get into too many fights."

"And do you?"

Steve shrugs, and Tony’s hand lifts with it. “I don’t run away.”

"Yeah, I’m getting that," Tony says, and Steve feels the rush of air conditioning, the nothing-smell that indicates they’ve walked into a hospital, and wonders if his mom’s going to yell now or after they fix his head.

"Hey, Tony?"

"Yeah," Tony says, and then, to a nurse: "He hit his head, we need help, right now please, as in  _now,_  chop chop _._ ” He sounds stressed. Steve doesn’t like it.

"You were pretty badass back there," Steve says, and the last thing he hears before passing out is Tony’s surprised laughter.

 

 

 

 

"I thought you said I was a badass," Tony whines.

Steve tries not to smile too hard. “I was concussed, take anything I said with a grain of salt. But yes, you were badass- an amateur badass who, while enthusiastic, should learn how to fight properly rather than throwing your fists and hoping things turn out okay.”

Tony gives him what Steve has come to know as The Eyebrow and says, “So the only solution is for you to teach me how to ‘fight properly?’”

"Would you rather Bucky do it?"

"God, no. Hit me."

Steve withholds a sigh. “It’s not Fight Club, Tony. I’m going to be teaching you things.”

"Things like punching," Tony says, going into a stance where his feet are all wrong. "Hit me."

Steve doesn’t bother holding in the sigh this time, and goes to correct Tony’s stance. The heat of Tony’s body, already warm from hitting a punching bag for a while, seeps through Steve’s clothes and presses hard into him.

It’s not until they’re both panting hours later, sweat blotting their clothes, lying on the floor of the gym that Tony wheezes, “Okay, Rogers, tit for tat,” and Steve somehow finds himself with a tutor.

A very persistent tutor who won’t take no for an answer when Steve assures him he’s getting along fine in Algebra.

Tony smiles like Steve always imagined the Cheshire Cat does. “You’re scraping, Steve.”

"B-minus isn’t so bad."

"Yeah, but it’s not an A, either," Tony says, and his chest is heaving, and his hair is plastered to his forehead, and Steve is just distracted enough to agree.

"Fine," he says, turning his head away from Tony and heading over for the water bottle he has on the bench, taking a long drag to clear his head.

 

 

 

 

It goes like that.

Steve teaches Tony how to fight, Tony teaches Steve how to get his B-minus to an A, and Steve honestly doesn’t know which is worse.

When they fight, it’s all heat. Tony’s a vicious fighter, all heat and spur of the moment, throws his all into it, doesn’t pull any punches. They roll around and their laughter is edged with adrenaline and Steve always goes home smelling of both their sweat.

Tony’s shirt always rides up because even with all his money he can’t be bothered buying a new shirt to work out in, so Steve is left trying not to ogle his friend whenever he lifts his arms half an inch and flashes his hips.

He ends up straddling Steve, or the other way around. There’s an intimacy to it, there’s always been intimacy in fighting without aiming to hurt: Steve guides Tony’s punches with his hand, stands behind him to show him where his feet should be going, breathes on his neck when he doesn’t mean to. He’s up close with Tony’s exhilarated grin, his pupils swelling as the fight really gets going.

It’s exhausting, wanting Tony and having him in his arms, but not in the way Steve wants.

But then there’s the tutoring, the afternoons that turn into late nights and sleepovers where Tony takes the couch even after Steve tells him, really, he can take the bed, and Tony tells him to shut up repeatedly until Steve gives in.

Tony always leans too close when he’s checking Steve’s answers, pen tapping, ankle brushing Steve’s accidentally under the table. Tony talks quietly, more patient than Steve thought he’d be except when Steve really doesn’t get something. Once or twice, Steve pretends not to get a question just to see Tony get riled up, his words spilling all over each other as Steve tries not to grin.

Bucky keeps looking at Tony suspiciously, like he’s trying to figure out his angle, and Peggy and Natasha keep exchanging these looks with each other whenever Steve says he’s going to go see Tony, like they know something he doesn’t.

 

 

 

"He likes you."

Tony startles at the gruff voice of Bucky Barnes. He looks up from his book to see Bucky getting comfortable in the seat next to him, and watches dubiously as Bucky gets out a Biology textbook and flips it open.

"This is study hall," Bucky says when he catches Tony frowning. "I’m studying." He motions towards the algebra textbook Tony has in front of him. "Study."

Tony stares at him a little longer before, still not entirely convinced he’s not going to end up walking out of here unscathed, he looks back at his book. After thirty seconds of not reading it, his eyes going uselessly over the words, Bucky speaks up again.

"Steve. He likes you."

Tony glances at Bucky, who turns a page like it’s offended him. “I know.”

This makes Bucky look at him, not quite threatening but not really anything else. “So.”

"…So," Tony says, unsure of what he’s supposed to be doing here. If he tried hard enough, would he be able to make it to the door before Bucky could? Would Bucky stick out a leg, trip Tony up and drag him back to the table while Tony clawed at the carpet?

For a moment, Bucky’s jaw works silently. Then he says, “Steve was my only friend for a long time.” He doesn’t say it defensively, or like he wants sympathy, he says it like he’s reading out one of the facts in his textbook.

"You’re giving me the ‘if you hurt him, I’ll kill you’ speech," Tony realizes aloud. "Seriously? I mean, if-"

"I’m not giving you the speech," Bucky cuts him off. "I’m just pointing out, Steve didn’t have many people for a while, and now that we do, we’re working real hard not to screw it up. He works hard at that kind of thing," he says, and pauses, brow furrowing like he’s pissed but isn’t sure what to do about it. "If Steve likes you as much as I think he does," he says eventually, and Tony’s chest does this weird constricting thing that has been happening a lot lately, "then I guess I gotta start trusting you, at the very least."

"Um," Tony says. "Back at you?"

Bucky grunts, looking around the study hall. It’s mostly empty, apart from a small group of people in the left corner, who are too far away to hear anything they’re saying. 

At first Tony thinks he’s finished, and is about to go back to reading his book when Bucky says, “Nat says we’re both sarcastic assholes and that we should go from there.”

Tony blinks at him for a while until he realizes Bucky is trying to  _bond_  with him. “Right,” he says. “That’s- a start, I suppose.”

Another grunt. “What do you like?”

"Mechanics," Tony answers immediately.

"That’s not helpful at all," Bucky says, and Tony rolls his eyes.

"Okay, wiseass, what do you think we should bond over? What the hell do we both like?"

"Steve," Bucky answers, like he was prepared for it, and then pulls a shit-eating grin from out of nowhere that catches Tony so off-guard he’s startled into laughter.

It’s the grudging start to a beautiful friendship that widely involves drinking, blowing things up, making snarky comments to each other and making Steve nervous.

 

 

 

 

Maybe Rhodey wore a tie just to emphasize how Graduated From High School he is. And  _maybe_  he washes his car the day before driving down to see Tony and co to show them just how Legally Allowed To Drive, and how much he Actually Has a Licence.

And yes, it’s possible he takes one look at Tony’s new friends and smiles menacingly. In his defence, most of them had bruises or marks on their face like they get into fights all the time, they were all in biker jackets, and, okay, Pepper’s just as bad. She wore her outfit she wears when she wants people to know she’s perfectly capable and willing to take off her heels and stab someone with them.

The leader- Captain- whatever of the group puts his hand out to shake, smiling pleasant enough.

Tony introduces Pepper to everyone first, and Pepper’s smile is slightly strained as she looks them over, and then it’s Rhodey’s turn. 

"Rhodey, this is Steve," Tony says, and, oh, Rhodey knows that tone, this is worse than he thought. "Steve, meet Rhodey."

"NIce to meet you," Steve says, his grip firm and friendly, and Rhodey gives him points for that, at least. He gives him a once over: he’s not wealthy, judging by the state of his clothes and his bike, same with the others.

Rhodey theorizes these guys could be hanging around Tony for the money, or to get in with the people Tony rubs noses with, but smiles anyway, for Tony’s sake. Even if he has to break the news to Tony, he should do it so the kid doesn’t give up on humanity entirely. Rhodey can tell Tony’s already pretty invested, by the way they all act around each other: it’s obvious Tony’s a new addition, a few months at the most, but they’re comfortable enough around each other. 

The others don’t offer a handshake, just nod in that way teenagers do, and Rhodey nods back, feeling like he’s been transported back eight years and hasn’t gone through puberty yet. 

"Fancy tie," one of the girls- Natasha, he thinks, because Peggy is British- says, and there’s something he doesn’t like about her smirk.

Rhodey smooths it. “Thank you,” he says, and beside him, Pepper is tapping her hip the way she does when she’s nervous.

Tony looks between them- the friends he’s had since age thirteen and the ones he’s had since February, and rolls his eyes. “Great, so can we go to the movies now?”

"Lead the way," Rhodey says.

Pepper’s smile is still strained as hell. “Uh, do we follow behind your motorcycles?”

 

 

 

 

Rhodey barely holds back a frown when Tony offers to buy everyone popcorn when their awkward Not Shuffling makes it clear that they don’t have the extra change. They even put up a good fight, all ‘oh no, it’s fine, really,’ which sounds real, but Rhodey is all too aware how sincere people can sound when they want to.

"We can survive without popcorn, Tony," Steve tells him, and Tony pushes his glasses up his nose indignantly. Steve’s protesting has gone on longer than the others, and he and Tony are now arguing teasingly in what looks like a familiar rhythm. This lasts until the girl behind the counter clears her throat and motions to all the people in the line behind them, and Tony throws up his hands.

"Fine! I’ll just buy another few popcorns for me and maybe if you’re all nice to me I’ll share!" He grins up at Steve. "You can’t be angry about me buying popcorn for myself, Steven."

"I can’t,  _Anthony_ ,” Steve says, fake-mocking, “but I can if you’re buying it for all of us, which you ARE. We don’t need it, I promise, we don’t need food to see a movie.”

Tony flutters his eyelashes. “So, just the pleasure of my company, then?”

Steve flushes, a small thing that spread across his cheeks, and Rhodey and Pepper exchange a look. They’re both pretty sure the leads of biker gangs weren’t supposed to blush at Tony’s weak-ass attempts at flirting.

"Yeah, just that," Steve mutters, and then, louder and brighter, meeting his eyes: "So you don’t need to buy popcorn for us, since all we need is the pleasure of your company. Thanks anyway, Tony."

Tony flounders, wallet in hand, and the girl behind the desk clears her throat again, but this time it comes out sounding like an angry grunt.

"Sorry," Steve tells her, and takes their tickets, the group moving forward as he does, entirely popcorn-less.

 

 

 

 

After the movie is finished and people start filing out, Rhodey motions to Pepper, who nods and stays in her seat. Then he taps Tony’s arm, who stops getting up and looks at him. “Yeah?”

"Stay behind for a minute?"

Tony’s smile fades, but he lowers himself back in his seat. “We’ll catch up,” he says when the others look at him expectantly.

They shrug but leave, and Tony crosses his arms over his chest. “What, guys?”

Rhodey decides it’s best to rip the band-aid off fast. “We think they might not be hanging out with you just for you,” he says, and then winces. Pepper kicks his foot. Yeah, he could definitely have worded that better.

Tony’s face is already closing off. “You think they’re here for my money.”

"We’re only trying to look out for you," Pepper says, and Tony glares.

"They’ve never asked me for money," he says quietly. "Whenever I try to offer it, they refuse. Even when Steve isn’t around to be stubborn, they turn it down. The most I’ve brought any of them is a milkshake each, and all of them paid me back for it within a week."

Rhodey looks at Pepper, who raises her eyebrows back at him.

"We still don’t know if they’re not-"

"They’re not in it for the money," Tony spits. "God, is it so hard to believe they might just actually LIKE me?"

"Of course not," Pepper says, trying for coaxing and coming out as offended. "We’re just being careful, we’re-"

"You’re looking out for me," Tony nods. "Right. Great. Thanks, guys, but it isn’t necessary." 

He starts to get up, but Rhodey grabs his arm. “Wait, come on- we’re sorry, Tones.”

Tony pauses, still glaring, and Rhodey remembers yet again the fact that he tries so hard to make people forget: how goddamn  _young_  this kid is.

Pepper sighs. “Tony, it’s been a problem in the past. We only wanted to- check.”

"And your verdict?"

They both squirm. “We’ve kind of been looking through a They-Want-Money-From-You lens,” Pepper admits. “So we might have to spend some more time with them to figure it out, when we aren’t convinced they’re after your inheritance. Is that okay?”

"I don’t know," Tony says, "I’ll check with them."

 

 

 

 

Rhodey and Pepper get on the wrong end of a lot of glares when Tony comes out of the movie theatre and explains things to them.

"Sorry," Rhodey tries. "We-"

"Think we’re a bunch of dicks who put up with Tony for the freebies," Bucky cuts him off dryly.

"Gee, thanks," Sam adds, rolling his eyes.

"We don’t want to see a repeat of what’s happened too many times," Pepper says. "I’m sorry, but he’s Tony Stark, and people wanting your money comes with the name. And none of you are," her fingers tap at her hip, "particularly wealthy."

"What gave it away," Peggy says, dripping with sarcasm.

Steve hasn’t talked since Tony explained, he’s just looked at them with a locked jaw, but now he opens his mouth and his friends fall silent. “I can respect that you only wanted to look out for Tony,” he says. “God knows he needs more friends like that.” He pauses, jaw shunting to the other side before sighing.”None of us have money to throw around, I can’t blame you for thinking what you did. Neither of you need to apologize.”

Bucky sticks his arm up in the air. “ _I’d_  love an apology.”

"I wouldn’t mind one," Natasha says, and Peggy and Sam nod, making agreeable noises at them. 

"We’re so sorry," Rhodey says, trying to put as much sincerity into it as he can. "Truly."

Tony has been looking intensely uncomfortable during this entire conversation, and he’s looking fit to burst by the time he claps his hands together and says. “Good, glad we sorted that out. How do you guys feel about going another round with these guys, since they have to form another opinion of you to replace the one where you’re leeching off my money?”

"I have a few hours to spare," Steve says. "Guys?"

He gets a couple of grunts and one whine in return. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he says, and turns to Tony. “Where do you suggest?”

Tony shrugs. “Don’t care. Pick a place. One condition, though.”

"Go."

"Rhodey and Pepper have to ride bitch on one of your bikes."

Rhodey’s resounding, “Noo _ooo_ ,” is drowned out by Pepper’s louder-than-life sigh as she resigns herself to her fate.

 

 

 

 

 

Rhodey thinks he’s just about done forming a new opinion when he catches sight of Steve leading Tony away. Rhodey turns away from where Bucky is doing doughnuts on the tarmac of the parking lot with Pepper whooping in his ear behind him and follows Steve and Tony, leaning on the wall where they’re behind.

"Why didn’t you tell us it had been a problem," he hears Steve saying. "We’re short on cash a lot and I know some of us have asked-"

"For a few dollars at most, Steve, Jesus," Tony says, sounding too tired for a sixteen year old.

"It doesn’t matter how much it is."

"I don’t know, if it was a couple hundred bucks I might get suspicious."

Rhodey doesn’t hear anything for a few seconds, then Steve is saying, “You didn’t tell us because you were afraid we were just around you for the spare change.”

He can’t see Tony,but he can imagine the flinch. 

"I know you aren’t," Tony says. "Maybe- maybe a few times, I thought- but I don’t anymore. It’s fine, Steve."

"It’s not," Steve says, soft and firm at the same time, and Rhodey can see how he can start speaking and everyone else listens. Even the way he holds himself screams  _leader._ Rhodey doesn’t doubt that he takes good care of his people, and that his people take good care of each other, and Rhodey hopes like hell that Tony isn’t stupid enough to count himself out of that.

"It’s not fine," Steve says, and Rhodey hears his throat click. "There’s nothing fine about people using you like that. You deserve better, Tony."

Silence from Tony’s end. Rhodey supposes he doesn’t get told that enough; he remembers saying it once and remembers Tony’s eyeroll, the loud, dismissive laugh.

Tony isn’t laughing now. 

More silence, and then Rhodey hears the quiet, breathless sound of Steve’s gasp. He peeks around the brick, and holds back a snort when he’s greeted with the sight of Steve and Tony kissing, Tony’s arms around Steve’s neck and Steve’s big hands cupping Tony’s face like he’s handling something holy.

_Pepper owes me fifty bucks_ , he thinks, and he turns to walk back to the others and ask for another turn on the motorcycle.

 

**Author's Note:**

> here's my [tumblr](http://theappleppielifestyle.tumblr.com/).
> 
> and here's the tag for [this 'verse on my tumblr](http://theappleppielifestyle.tumblr.com/tagged/going-on-a-ride) :)


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